The Cats Eyes
by askingalexandra740
Summary: Ashton Burrns is a girl living in Gotham City. But when a science experiment goes wrong, everything turns for the worst. Running from her past, she runs into Catwoman and decides to 'liberate' a small prize. Not making it far before the elusive theif notices, the two begin to bond over theft. Before she knows it, the girl is Catwoman's new righthand feline. *Contains dark themes*
1. Chapter 1-Prologue

_Two Years Later..._

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I'm sitting there in silence, perched on of the many gargoyles that line buildings in this city. I sit there, watching the busy streets of Gotham in silence. I don't say anything, or even move. I can stay sitting like this for hours, just watching and waiting. I don't need any words as I gaze down from my perch in the sky.

I watch the crowds and cars from this great distance, comparing them to flashing little Christmas lights. It was a bit startling to think, that only two years ago, I had been nothing in Gotham. Nothing but a lowly little girl; innocent and untainted, afraid of this city.

How much has changed. I have seen how Gotham really is. Nothing more than a rotting city, filled with danger, crime, and death.

But I'm glad that it's a dying city.

It's taught me so much about life, about myself.

I'm no longer so sweet or pure.

I'm just as dangerous.

I'm not afraid.

It's taught me to grow up. And in two years, I have grown up. In more ways than one. No one underestimates me anymore.

I sigh very softly, but don't move.

I'm no longer so soft.

I'm a hunter now, Gotham and all that inhabit it are my prey.

Silent, deadly, and patient.

I've learned all of those things.

But I can no longer wait.

Standing up with silent grace, I stand on the head of the gargoyle. I look down on the city, feeling the faintest of all smiles curl on my lips. Silently, I reach for my hip, gripping the black whip butt and tugging; feeling the rough whip that I use as my belt slide from my waist.

'I am no longer Ashton Burrns. I am no longer fearful of you Gotham. But the question is, are you afraid of me?' I think, looking down at my feet.

'Yes. Yes you are. You are afraid of me, afraid that I will strip you of everything you have left. I can feel it, smell it. I can see it with my own eyes…The Cats Eyes.' I continue, gripping the whip tighter. I had given everything up, everything I loved. Everything that mattered to me, just for this new life.

And I don't regret it.

Turning my head, I spy another gargoyle several feet to my left and several feet down.

"I regret nothing," I whisper, pulling my arm back and feeling my muscles tighten. Letting my arm snap forward, I crack my whip and hear it snap in the air, hooking around the snout of the stone beast. Before I leave my current spot, I look back to Gotham; a faint wind ruffling my hair.

Then I look away, tightening my hold on the butt of the whip, coiling my muscles and jumping off my perch, swinging through the air to my new spot, releasing the whip to free fall through the air, only to snap my whip once more and be brought back up higher than before; my body sailing through the air as I travel from stone perch to perch.

I'm ready for this. I'm ready to steal everything Gotham can offer.

Can you handle me Gotham? Can you handle my past, my reputation, and me?

For your sake, I hope not.

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**Edited: 1/8/13**

**Thanks to a lovely review, I've edited my prologue and I hope you all enjoy it!**


	2. Chapter 2-The Beginning

_Two Years Earlier..._

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I felt myself wake up, my eyes reluctantly fluttering open. Groaning slightly, I rolled over to my side, nestling myself deeper into my warm sheets. I peeked through the covers to look at my alarm clock. _6:12 A.M. _Ugh. I had woken up about fifteen minutes too early. But I wasn't about to get up, my bed felt way too comfy to just abandon it. Yawning, I shifted into a fetal position, trying to work out the courage to escape the warm, fluffiness of my bed to feel the icy floor underneath me. I thought about today, what was to be expected. I would get up, preparing for school, the thought of school making my soul die a little inside me. I would survive my classes, the dreaded math and science; soul-crushing history and trying to decipher Española. Then I would trudge home and do homework, waiting for my mother to return home. Just like yesterday and the day before.

Then my alarm went off, the blaring noise making my ears hurt. Groaning again, I reached over and slammed the god-awful machine with my hand until it turned off. I rose from my bed. I looked around blearily, rubbing my eyes occasionally. My room was how I left it last night, though my mom must have come in and covered my with my blanket as the door was open a crack. But otherwise, everything was in order. Well, not really. My wooden floor was littered with the occasional sock and my backpack, spewing out homework. My desk was covered in papers, some neat, others crumpled, pencils and pens. My laptop was on my chair, a bright blue light blinking slowly. But otherwise, my room was quite normal and organized. But I couldn't lag around anymore; I needed to get ready for my daily torture.

I swung my legs off the edge of my bed, placing them reluctantly on the floor as the freezing wood burned them slightly. I stood and started to walk off to my bathroom to prepare. Turning on the lights, and wincing as the bright yellow light bathed the room. I slid my eyes over to the mirror and stared in, my reflection staring back. My eyes, even though they were tired looking, they still stared back quite nicely, my lashes framing them. My eyes, hazel like my fathers, they were an unusual shade. Smoky gray outlined my pupil, which shifted into a rich, deep brown, which then shifted into a dark forest green. But I didn't want my eyes, not if I had to share them with that _man._ My _father._

I hated that man with burning passion. He left me and my mother when I was just a young girl. He would come home, smelling of cheap liquor and with the scent of other women's perfume on his skin. And he admitted it; he admitted that he was a drunkard and that he cheated. He left us alone. But he left his mark on both me and my mother. My mother, Annabelle, was devastated for months. She really wasn't the same afterwards. But I think it had to do with me. I had inherited his eyes, down to the exact coloring I had his hair color as well. Or, hair colors. His hair was of strange shading. From the roots, it was a soft blonde, warm like honey. But then it melted into fiery red, coppery almost. But then that even shifted into a dark shade of black, ebony almost near the tips. I even shared his name…Ashton. My father wanted a boy, and when he got a girl instead, he refused to call me anything else. So now, I have a boy's name. Not that I mind. Everyone calls me Ashley or Ash… I'm used to it. But whether I liked it or not, I reminded my mom of him. And I hated him for it. Even though I had her face shape, her long and wavy hair, and elegant body shape, it still wasn't enough to erase the hurt he did to my family.

But I ignored the pressing thought of my father, returning to reality. I was still staring at myself in the mirror. I needed to get ready, I couldn't daydream all day.

Ripping my comb through my multi-colored hair, it was soon soft and silky feeling, the bristles of my comb full of knots and strands. Now, instead of looking sleepy and wanting to rip someone's face off, I looked somewhat refreshed and bright looking. I pulled my long hair into a pony tail, keeping it out of my face. I found my school uniform, strewn across my chair haphazardly. Ugh, I hated that uniform. It was a plain white dress shirt, short sleeved with a gold and red trim. Accompanying it was a red and gold plaid skirt, pleated and short, falling to mid-thigh. Ew. Pulling those wretched clothes on, I was now ready for school. Even though I wanted to stay home. But, then again, I always wanted to stay home. I grabbed my backpack, shoving a few papers that were deemed important inside. I vaguely wondered if my mother was awake. Listening carefully, I could hear her bustling around in the kitchen, fixing our breakfast. Smiling, I opened my door and hopped down the stairs, walking into the kitchen, my nose greeted by the homey smells of hot coffee being brewed and strawberry jam melting into hot toast.

I skipped in the kitchen area, my mother's head turning to see mine. My mother was always very pretty, even though she was turning middle-aged. But she somehow aged with grace. My mother had short, wavy brown hair, the exact color of melting chocolate and sky-blue eyes. I always wished I had her eyes; they were such a pretty color. I always wished I had those eyes.

"Hey, sweetie, did you sleep well?" my mother asked, turning away from the stove to plant a kiss on my forehead, just below my hairline. I smiled and gave her a quick peck to the cheek.

"Morning, Mom. Yeah, I slept pretty well." I said, walking over to the fridge, a wave of cool air washing over me as I opened the stainless steel door. Picking a banana and taking out the carton of milk, I heard my mom place two plates on the island in the middle of the kitchen, along with two mugs. I faced my mother again, watching her casually as she spooned scrambled eggs alongside two pieces of toast each. "I got the milk, Mom," I said, raising the hand that clutched the carton.

"And I got the coffee, even though you are way too young to be drinking the Caffeinated Black Nectar of the Gods," my mom joked, pouring the dark liquid in both our mugs.

"But it's better than me drinking three cans of carbonated sugar every day, you have to admit," I pointed out, trickling in a bit of milk and adding sugar, in hopes of canceling the bitterness of the drink. My mom chuckled slightly as she took a bite of toast. We were like this, we'd talk and laugh. It was our way of bonding, without the aid of shopping. I liked it this way, much more personal, even though I did get new clothing.

"Ah, I guess. When you put it that way, you make drinking fizzy beverages sound like first-degree murder," she said, sipping at her own coffee.

"I'm a teenager, what did you expect? A well-behaved, polite, properly dressed lady?" I asked, sarcasm ringing through my voice. We were silent for a moment, eyeing each other before bursting into laughter.

We ate in moderate silence from then on, my mother sipping her drink and spooning scrambled eggs into her mouth. I was nibbling on my toast; butter and strawberry jelly mingling quite nicely on my tongue. I was almost done with my eggs when my mother spoke up again.

"Hey, sweetie?"

"Yeah Mom? What is it?" I asked, wondering what she wanted. She always used that tone of voice and line if she desired something from me. She smiled sweetly before responding.

"You know that little holiday you used to love? You know, the one with the mother and daughter? That one." she said, brushing back a lock of her chocolate hair. I nodded, wondering where she was going with.

"Yeah, Bring Your Daughter To Work Day?" My mom nodded, a sly grin appearing on her lips.

"That's the one! I thought, since you haven't been to my workplace in a while, you'd like to visit," she grinned, knocking back the dregs of her coffee. I smirked.

"Don't you think I'm a bit old for that?" I asked skeptically.

"Well, I thought, that maybe, you'd like to be with mommy today!" My eyebrows knitted together. My mother's workplace really wasn't a place for the younger generation which I belonged to. But I saw my mom smile. "You know, you do get to miss school." She pointed out. I paused. I didn't think about that.

"Well. Who am I to disrespect a national holiday?" I said, grinning. My mom giggled and began to clear the mess we made.

"Good! I've been meaning to take you sooner or later, anyways. You planning on going in that?" she said, pointing to my outfit, looking up and down. I looked down; grimacing at the atrocity I was wearing.

"Why? Do you think I'll blend in?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"Considering that everybody and their brother wear lab coats, then yes, you would blend in," my mother said matter-of-factly.

"Give me a minute to change then," I said, now heading back to my room. I raced back up the stairs into my room, in hopes of finding an acceptable outfit.

After a few minutes of rummaging through my closet and drawers, I finally found something worthy to be worn, something I would actually wear in the real life. I was now sporting crisp black capris and black Vans. Accompanying my bottom half, I now had on a white dress shirt, much like the one before, with a plain black vest to accompany it.

"Did you fall in? I'm waiting for you!" my mother called from down the stairs. I smiled.

"I'll be down in a minute, sheesh!" I called back, grabbing my phone and slipping it into my pocket, I took a quick glance at myself in the mirror, finding that I looked like a professional, but still stylish. Nice. "Alright, I'm coming!

"Finally! I was thinking about sending in a search party after you," my mother joked.

We finally made it to my mother's workplace without being too late. I craned my neck to look up to the great height of the building. My mother worked in a facility where she was a scientist on recombining DNA strands. She spent her days figuring out the human DNA structure, along with several other types of animals. Due to her work, she finds defective genes, fixes them, and saves people from certain illnesses. It seemed interesting, but then I found out the majority of the time she spent her time looking into a microscope or staring at a computer screen.

We entered the double doors and began walking toward her office, but we made a few pit-stops on the way there. First off, like tradition follows, she had to show me off to co-workers. After a few minutes of shaking hands and being gushed over, _"Oh, you've grown so much!" "So pretty, she has such grace!"_ Come on people. I'm not five, or a ballerina. Yeah, I like being thin and a bit tall for my age. But grace? I'm about as graceful as a penguin waddling around in the snow.

"So Mom, you said you had something to show me?" I asked, more reminding her than asking a question. My mother nodded as she slipped on her lab coat.

"Okay, you know how I've been working on that secret project?"

"Yeah, you said you couldn't tell me,"

"That was only because it was in the prototype stage. Now, since it's underway, they're allowing me to share some information," she said, now slipping on rubber gloves, the scent of latex filling the air.

"So what's the project?" I asked, feeling genuinely interested. My mother grinned.

"A few other colleagues and I are working together on this little project. We plan to combine several types of feline DNA to create a super cat." Super cat? What was that? She noticed the confusion on my face. "Sorry, let me elaborate. We plan to blend the characteristics of several felines to create a cat that is basically the best of them all." She continued. I nodded, sort of understanding.

"So what types of DNA are you combining?" I quizzed, hoping she could tell me more. My mother turned away for a moment, shuffling for something in her office. She pulled out a box and took off the lid, revealing a bunch of glass slides.

"Here, you can look at theses. We're to combine these together." She said, handing me the box. I took one out, peering at the tiny print. I replaced it and took out another. And another and another.

"So this 'super cat' is going to have tiger, lion, cheetah, leopard, and black panther DNA?"

"You forgot two…" my mother said, delicately picking up a slide I hadn't seen.

"Domestic cat? _Sabertooth tiger?"_ I asked incredulously. My mother nodded proudly.

"We wanted it to have a more ferocious appearance. But the house cat DNA is to calm down the wild cat side. You know, make it all mellow to humans," she said. I nodded once again, still not totally understanding. "You can hold the slides if you want," she said, handing me the two slides back. I took them graciously, holding the slides carefully in my hands. Tight enough so they wouldn't slide out and fall, but loosely so as not to crack the thin glass.

"So what do we do with these?"

"We need to take them to the recombinant chamber."

"Um…I'm in high school, not college."

"It's basically a huge tub of recombinant liquid that we combine the DNA in. It makes the several DNA strands into one individual strand. It makes it easier to graph onto the body we have programmed."

"Programmed?"

"Yep, we can just create a body with just DNA alone, but we need to first find the desired traits. So we program into a computer the genes we want, like speed and agility from the cheetah, leopard, and black panther or power and ferocity from the tiger, lion, and sabertooth tiger. So we, in technical terms, create a feline host body through data, and then upload the DNA containing the genes we desier," my mom said, now leading me down a long hallway.

We entered through a metal door saying, "Authorized Personnel Only". It revealed another walkway, supported by metal wires. I took a wary step onto the metal floor. I gazed over the edge of the thin railing. Underneath me were huge tubs, almost like gargantuan test tubes, but much wider. They were filled to the brim with a pale orange liquid. I looked a bit closer. It was a bit thicker than water; almost like mud and bubbled quietly.

"So when you put the cat thingy in here, how does it breathe?" I asked.

"That's the cool part. It allows anything to breathe it in without choking. It burns slightly, but you could still breathe. It's like liquid air," my mother answered.

"So…if a person tripped and fell in, they could still breathe?"

"Yep. Though that would never happen, considering the precautions we take around here to keep this project going. I mean, the only way that would happen is if you're leaning over and the wires broke. Which they haven't, and they won't." she replied, sounding a bit proud of herself.

"Let me guess. Steel wires?"

"_Reinforced steel wires_," she corrected. "When we were given this project, we were given the funding to make sure nothing went wrong." She said, brushing back her hair. She looked as if she was to speak up again, but then someone walked up. She looked to be a few years older than my mother, 45 at the most. She had thick blond hair pulled back into a ponytail and light brown eyes, golden almost. She wore a similar outfit to my mother's; long-sleeved dress shirt, pencil skirt, and lab coat.

"Annabelle, do you have the file I needed?" the woman asked, using my mother's first name. My mother nodded.

"Here you go," she said, reaching into her lab coat pocket to pull out a thick folder. "Oh, I forgot to introduce you two. Monica, this is my daughter Ashton," she said, gesturing toward me.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ashton," she said in a smooth voice, smiling. I smiled back.

"You too, Monica. Are you working with my mom on the project?" I asked, hoping to sound innocent and somewhat interested while in all reality I was still a bit lost on the technical parts of this whole ordeal. Monica smiled and nodded, her ponytail bobbing slightly.

"You guessed it. I'm the one who collected the DNA and programmed the information in the computer," she said, motioning with the folder.

The two women began to talk, about the project and other things. Variables and genetics. I tried to listen in, but it was boring me, so I walked over to the edge of the railing and stared down into the vat of orange. I could see my reflection in the liquid, the bubbles occasionally distorting my image. I wondered what they cat would look like. I brought the slides closer to my face, thinking about them. I wondered what the different types of cat DNA would do.

I figured the cheetah would be used for its speed. The lion and tiger for their size and strength, as they were the biggest of all the wild cats. I thought the leopard and black panther could be used for their stamina and agility. And well the house cat and sabertooth tiger question had been already answered. I was about to turn back to my mom and Monica, but then it all happened.

The lights immediately flickered, shorting out and spazzing. I whipped around to see them wide eyed. I placed all the slides in one hand, so I could at least clutch the railing behind me.

"Mom, what's going on?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even.

"I don't know-"she began, but was cut off by a blaring noise, an alarm. A bright red light went off, bathing the room in crimson light.

"Someone breached the perimeter!" cried Monica, clinging to the railing.

"What?! Mom, we need to get out of here!" I shouted over the blaring noise. Oh, God, it was so loud and shrill. I looked around, squinting through the sea of red. Then I saw him.

It had to be a man; no woman could be so big and hulking. He wore a trench coat and a wide-brimmed hat, so I couldn't see his face that was cloaked in shadows. He reached into one of the multiple pockets sewn into his coat and pulled out a knife; the silver metal glinting dangerously in the crimson light. "Mom, look out!" I shouted, pointing to the figure. Both woman looked frantically and screamed, clutching the railing even tighter. The man drew his arm back and threw the dagger, the metal slicing through the air with precision. I ducked, even though it wasn't thrown towards me, but to the side of me...Thrown at the wires. I heard a metallic snapping and turned my head to the metal wire that had been cut cleanly. How sharp and strong was that knife?. Suddenly, the bridge bucked and swayed, tilting downwards, the side I was on.

"Mom! Help me!" I shrieked, now holding onto the railing for dear life. I looked behind me and could see the vat bubbling viciously, waiting for me to slip.

"Ashton, grab my hand!" she screamed back, holding out her hand.

"No, I'll fall!"

"Just trust me!" she protested, shoving her hand further out. I swallowed and blinked, my heart beating like a drum. Positioning my feet, I let go of the railing, almost falling in the process. I took a shaky step toward my mother and Monica, who were urging me forward. Easy for them to say, the ground was slick and tilting at a 45 degree angle. I was just about to grab my mother's hand when I the sound again. The slicing sound. I looked to the man, to see the dagger escape his grasp. I watched in horror as the knife sliced through the remaining metal wire. And then, I wasn't standing. I was falling. I was sliding backwards, my mother's hand no longer within reach.

And when I was falling everything seemed to be in slow-motion. I could feel my arms and legs flailing, my hair whipping past my face. I could see the unidentified man lurk back into the shadows, my mother and Monica clinging to each other and the railing, hanging on, just like I had been. I could feel the air failing beneath me. I was falling, faster and faster. I could hear myself scream, loud and keening. I could feel my hand, still handling the DNA. I could feel my stomach rising up to my throat, my heart thrumming. Yet, I still hadn't fallen. But it was coming, with every passing second.

And then I crashed through the surface of the water, sinking like a stone. I opened my eyes and all I could see was orange, bright and vivid orange. It was so thick, like mud. I thrashed madly, trying to swim upwards. But I couldn't, my limbs were heavy and limp. I couldn't move, so I sank deeper and deeper, and I couldn't do anything. My lungs, they burned from lack of air, so unwillingly, I took a breath. Oh, God, my mother was wrong. It burned, it was acid! It scorched my throat and chest, I couldn't breathe. My vision became blurred and spotted with black.

Then the worst came. A tingling feeling. An itching, burning feeling sprouted from my hand. The hand with the DNA. The itching became worse, spreading to my arm. It continued to spread, like the plague, all over my body. It didn't itch anymore. It burned. It felt like I was being stabbed. I could feel my body, through the gel, snap and convulse. I screamed, but the only thing that came out was a stream of bubbles and the liquid filling my throat. My vision was failing me, the carroty water turning darker by the second. I was drowning. I was drowning and I knew it. I let myself succumb to the darkness.

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**First chapter done! Ah, let me know what you think by leaving me reviews!**


	3. Chapter 3-The Mirror

When I woke, I knew I wasn't in the vat anymore; I wasn't trapped in that thick goop. But I had no idea where I was. I used my senses to try and figure out where I was. My eyes were closed shut, and I could feel my body stretched out on top of something. A bed; soft and squishy by the feel of it underneath me. But my head was being cradled, something holding it up. I felt weak, my muscles felt tired and used. They felt as if they had been beat like a filthy rug. My skin felt funny too. It didn't itch or hurt like earlier, but it felt sensitive. Through my skin, I could feel everything. I could feel the scratchy paper lining the bed I was on. I could feel the strangest feeling, a minuet wind. An air current? I went back to figuring out what the heck was going on.

I could feel my hearing return to normal after a little while, allowing me to hear my surroundings. I could hear a voice, feminine by the pitch. It was Monica! Monica was safe, she was somewhere nearby. I wondered if they figured out who that man was. The bastard. Then I heard another voice, much closer sounding. It was my mom! Oh thank God, she was safe! I listened in, trying to hear what they were saying. But the strangest thing. They had to be whispering, but their voices seemed to echo piercingly through the air like they were yelling in a canyon. I listened in.

"Monica, it's been two days, she should be awake by now. I'm scared," my mother whispered. I could feel her shift next to me, my head still being cradled in her lap. I felt her hands brush back my hair, and once again, my skin could feel everything.

"Annabelle, I'm worried too. I'm scared, just like you. What's going to happen with the project now? What about that man?" Monica murmured, sighing at the end.

"The project is going to be fine. We just need to send for my recombinant gel and DNA. And that monster is in jail now, thank God. I'm just worried about Ashton…" my mother said, her soft voice trembling slightly.

"We should be grateful. The gel only gave her a slight burn, just like an overly hot shower. The doctor said her body needed to rest, and she is."

"But…She's been so still. She barely moved in the past 48 hours, and I'm scared that something's wrong," my mother protested, brushing back my hair again.

"She'll be fine. But something keeps nagging me. The DNA for the project, where did it go?" Monica asked, sounding puzzled.

Oh no. The DNA. I had held it in my hands, what had happened to it? I had fallen in, holding the DNA. What had happened to me? Did anything happen to me? I heard my mom respond.

"I gave it to her to hold. But she put it back in the box, just before we left my office. Why do you ask?" my mother said, her own inquisitive personality coming out. Monica sighed again before answering.

"That's good. There's no knowing what would've happened if she had handled the extra DNA,"

"Why? What would have happened?" my mother asked shrilly, her hands sweeping my hair a bit forcefully now.

"I don't know. If my theory is correct, if she had fallen in with that extra DNA…" Monica trailed off.

"Tell me what would happen. I know she's fine now, but what would have happened?" my mother demanded. Monica was quiet for a moment.

"If she fell in with the extra DNA, the recombinant gel would allow the free-flowing DNA to graph onto her own DNA. But that's only a guess. And thank God she wasn't in contact with the DNA at the time." Monica breathed, sounding extremely relieved. My mom sighed a relieved breath as well.

But, I did fall in with the DNA! I had fallen into one of those deathtraps with the DNA strands! Oh my God, what would happen to me?

I felt myself beginning to panic; I couldn't just lie around here anymore, not with the thought of being a mutant. I felt myself stir in my mother's arms.

"Ashton? Ashton, are you awake?" my mother asked softly. I could hear Monica's heels click against the floor. I could feel the vibrations of the three-inch heels against the floor. I felt them both lean in. I fought the darkness and soon felt my eyelids flutter open. The immediately wished I hadn't.

Everything was so sharp. So clear, I could see everything, every minuet detail. I could feel my pupils shrink and retract at the sudden light. I closed them tightly for a moment, trying to clear my head. Why was everything so vivid? It felt as if I was looking through a near-blind person's pair of glasses. My mother and Monica slid into focus as I opened my eyes again. Oh my God. My mother, I could see every little detail. I could see the individual strands of hair on her head. I could see the pores on her pale face. I could see the exact shading of her eyes, how some parts shifted into lighter brown from a darker color. It was like seeing my mother in a new light. The same for Monica, I could see the planes of her face, every aspect somehow clear as day. What the heck? I knew I already had 20/20 vision, but not this.

I felt my breathing speed up as I began to wake up. But just like my sight, my breathing was screwed up as well. No, not my breathing, my _nose._ I could smell everything. The sharp, stinging smell of rubbing alcohol. The bland scent of the parchment I was lying on. The sweet fragrance of Chanel No. 5 and Diamonds, the two perfumes mixing into a bouquet. But something else too. No aroma I had ever experienced before. My mother's face looked worried, and the air seemed to be laced with that emotion. Worry smelled sour with a slight zing. Like dill pickles almost. I realized with a jolt I could smell emotions. Oh dear Lord, what had happened to me?

"Mom?" I whispered, my voice sounding scratchy and rough. My throat began to burn, reminding me of the scalding bath I took in tangerine acid.

"Oh, Ashton, I've been so worried," my mother murmured, pulling me up gently to clutch me against her chest. My skin felt sensitive again, the fabric of her clothing agitating me. But I didn't mind, I really just wanted a hug. But as she held my head to her chest to hold me, I could hear her heart beat. I could hear it pounding like a drum, the rush of blood like a river. I could hear her intake of air. I could hear everything.

"Mom? What's going on?" I asked as she released me from her maternal embrace. My mom exchanged a look with Monica who gave me a relieved, but worried look. "Mom, what happened?" I asked again, hoping she would answer my question. My mother sighed before answering.

"You're in my work's infirmary. You fell into one of the recombinant chambers," she explained, her voice turning bitter at the end. I could smell that too. Anger smelled bitter, I could almost taste it. It tasted bitter, like crab apples.

"Mom, what about that man?" I asked, not telling her I had eavesdropped on their previous conversation.

"Don't you worry about that bad man, he's in jail. He'll never see daylight again," she promised me, hugging me tight again.

"Ashton, how do you feel?" Monica asked, stepping into the conversation. I thought about it. Truthfully, I felt scared. I felt scared knowing I had fallen in a recombinant chamber with extra DNA to spare. I felt frightened at the fact I could see everything in practically X-Ray vision and I had super smell. But physically, I felt as if I had just gotten over a cold. "Does your skin hurt?" Monica pressed, now sitting on the edge of the bed I was lying on. I looked down to my skin to view the damage.

Huh. That was strange. I thought I would be all red skinned and peeling. But my usually fair skin hadn't taken too much damage. It had a faint pink blush to it, as if I had just recovered from a bad sunburn.

"No, not really. It feels kinda…"

"Sensitive?"

"Yeah, that's it," I said, responding to her suggestion. Monica nodded, pulling out a notepad. She scribbled for a moment before looking up.

"Well, that's normal. You did take a dip in that gook. How do you feel though? Any soreness, fatigue?"

"I feel tired. Like I spent the day at the gym." Monica nodded, scribbling furiously in her notepad again.

"You've been through quite the ordeal, we won't blame you for needing a nap," my mother said, rubbing my arm gently. That felt nice. Really did, my mother petting my arm felt good. I smiled weakly.

"Mom? I'm sorry," I mumbled.

"What? Why? Why are you sorry?" she asked me, her brown eyes meeting my hazel one. I shrugged before continuing. I just felt horrible about the whole thing.

"Because. If I had stayed with you guys on your side, I wouldn't have fallen in." I said, feeling ashamed. My mother shook her head.

"Don't be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for. You can't be sorry for slipping and falling. If anyone should be sorry, it's me. If I hadn't tried to be a mom who wanted to bond with her only daughter, you wouldn't be here," my mother said, bringing me close for a hug. I shook my head feebly.

"It's not your fault some crazy guy came in here," I protested. I didn't want my mother to blame herself entirely.

We continued to blame ourselves until Monica stepped in. Ripping off a page of notes, she stood up, tucking the paper in her lab coat pocket.

"Ashton, I've called a doctor to come look over you," she began, straightening her blouse.

"Why? I just feel tired," I said, not wanting a doctor to come. I always hated doctors. They just irked me. Monica gave me a sympathetic smile.

"Don't worry, you aren't getting any shots. He's just coming to give you a quick look over," my mother assured me, fidgeting with my hair now. I gave a defeated sigh.

We waited in partial silence until the doctor came. I could hear him approach, his shoes clicking against the floor quietly. I could hear the quick shuffle of his clothing rubbing together. I looked toward the door just as I heard him knock.

"Come in," my mother called, looking toward the door. I watched the man enter. He was good looking, in his mid-thirties at the most. He had salt-and-pepper hair, thick and tousled. He had light blue eyes, which shined with quiet pride and intelligence. He wore the usual doctor coat and gloves, but underneath he wore a dark gray Oxford shirt and matching slacks. But I could see the details as well. I could see the stitching of his clothing, the shine on his shoes. I could see the beginnings of a five o'clock shadow.

"Are you Ashton Burnns?" the man asked, his voice quiet, but strong. I nodded. He pulled a chair up and sat in it, whipping out a clipboard.

"I'm Doctor Smith. I work here with your mother and Monica, over here at the infirmary. I heard about the little mishap, and I'm just here to give a quick checkup. Okay?" he asked, leaning closer. I nodded. See, this is what I hated about doctors. They talked to you like you were stupid. They explained the obvious. And then they turned sad news into a joke, trying to lessen the seriousness. The fuckers.

"Okay," I said, shifting into a more comfortable position in my mother's embrace. I let him do his thing, looking over me. Smith took my blood pressure, deemed it normal. Listened to my heart rate, found it the proper rate for a girl my age. Listened to my breathing, hearing for the non-existent obstructions. I allowed him to peek into my ears and mouth. Standard issue, so I didn't mind. Then it all changed. Even worse than before. He pulled out a penlight. He turned the light on and turned to me.

"Okay, I'm just going to take look at your pupils, so don't mind the light. Just stare into the light, alright?" he said, holding up the miniature flashlight. I nodded, getting annoyed. I didn't let it show on my face, using my 'poker face'.

He raised the light to my right eye, and instantly, an intense light shined in, so much brighter than it should be. I felt my pupil shrink. I also felt something else. The light flickering off and the doctor leaning away. His handsome face was in utter shock. Slowly, he raised the light again and shined it in my eye. I felt my pupil shrink. He jumped back this time, his face frightened.

"Holy Hell!" he yelled, fumbling with his light. I felt worried. My mother and Monica looked worried.

"What's wrong? Smith, answer me!" my mother demanded, jumping up from her chair. Smith swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing erratically. Slowly, he walked back and with a trembling hand, shined the light in my eyes again. Instantly, like a switch, all of them had the same reaction. Utter shock. I felt scared. What the heck was going on?

"Mom? What's wrong?" I asked, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. None of them answered. They all were wide-eyed, mouths contorted. Then Monica reached into her pocket, not taking her eyes of my face. Smith kept the light on my eyes. My mother's face was completely horrified. Then I understood why as soon as Monica placed the mirror in front of my face.


End file.
